


XVIII. Falling-out

by causeimdifferent



Series: Wanted [18]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:30:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/causeimdifferent/pseuds/causeimdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thommy drama & Carson feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	XVIII. Falling-out

„Stop this. Right now.“

Thomas slams shut the lid of the suitcase on Jimmy’s bed.

He is still out of breath, from running up the stairs in a frenzy, leaving Carson behind, probably open-mouthed.

“You are not in the position to give me orders, Thomas. Not anymore.”

“I’ve just handed in my notice and Carson agreed with letting you stay on.”

Jimmy snorts, scrambles Thomas aside and flips open the suitcase again.

It is worn, and already half packed with clothes. Jimmy adds a pile of shirts.

"I cannot accept you giving up your security for me.” Thomas winces at how wretched he sounds.

“Well, rest assured, I’m not.”

Jimmy grabs a book from the shelf, glances at it dismissively, then dumps it in the waste basket.

Thomas swallows hard.

“I gave you that book.”

Jimmy’s face turns rigid like a plaster mask.

_You’d rather die than cry, won’t you._

“Why would I sacrifice my position here for someone who doesn’t give a shit about me”, he hisses.

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” Jimmy mocks Thomas’s tone of voice, “The first thing you do after that disaster last night is to chip off straight to that bloody Duke of yours. While I am here all by myself almost losing my head. Fuck you, Thomas. Fuck. You.”

Thomas squirms. Nauseous, as if punched.

“I wasn’t thinking … I was completely off the rails, Jimmy.”

“That is the lamest excuse I have heard in my entire life.”

Now Jimmy haphazardly throws random items into the suitcase: a cufflinks box, his jar of pomade, his brush …

“Sorry, if it hurt you …”

Jimmy pauses in mid-movement to just glower at Thomas.

“ _If_ it hurt me? You are pathetic, Thomas. All this stuff and nonsense of you loving me. Sod that.”

“But I _do_ love you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I just handed in my notice so you can stay, Jimmy!”

“Sod that, too, Thomas. I don’t need your charity.”

“Jimmy please, I do love you. It’s just, that I do love him, too.”

“So you _do_ love him!”

“I guess.”

“God, Thomas, quit being such a spineless flop. Stop quibbling - I’m already _that_ close to punching your face.”

“I do love both of you, Jimmy, is that so hard to understand?”

“And since last night it is pretty obvious who you love more.”

“I don’t love anyone of you more or less. Just … differently.”

“Yah, right, Thomas. You keep telling me how bad you want to screw him and yet with me you haven’t even made the ghost of an attempt.”

“I … damn, are you serious? It’s been hardly a week that you have decided you want me like that at all. I didn’t see any reason to be all _that_ forward …”

Jimmy bangs shut the suitcase and makes a beeline for Thomas, to stop only inches before his face.

“Well then, Mr. Barrow, why don’t you show me how much you love me right this moment.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, go ahead and fuck me, Thomas. Now.”

“Heavens, calm down, stop this nonsense.”

Jimmy grabs Thomas's crotch and gives it a squeeze that makes him jump.

“Jimmy, come off it!”

Thomas slaps his hand away.

“You are not even hard. And I thought you had a thing for farewell-fucks.”

Thomas is starting to shake.

“This doesn’t get us anywhere, Jimmy.”

“I couldn’t care less about getting anywhere with you, Thomas. Not anymore. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

“I won’t leave unless you start unpacking again.”

“Well then wait until the end of time, Thomas. Our business aside, do you really think, I’ll keep working for just a single day under a head butler who knows what I look like with a cock in my mouth?”

“He will get over it”, Thomas almost begs.

“But _I_ won’t”, barks Jimmy.

“Don't you see what you're getting yourself into?”

“I’ve had a whole night to mull things over. _All by myself_.”

“Jimmy, it’s no fun to be all on your own out there.”

“I’ll manage”, Jimmy snaps.

“Where are you going to sleep tonight?”

“None of your business, Mr. Barrow.”

“What do you want from me, so you change your mind, Jimmy? A decision?”

“I don’t want anything from you anymore, understood?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I suppose you have to. And now get out, before I scream blue murder. Besides you’re overdue for breakfast already. Go!”

“I’m still your friend. I’m here if you need me, alright?”

“I needed you last night, and you were nowhere to be seen. Sod off, Thomas, we’re done!”

 

Thomas sits at the breakfast table, unable to swallow even one bite of toast.

Fighting down the tears by sipping tea like a maniac, clutching the cup tightly to keep his fingers from trembling.

Without even looking at him, Thomas knows Carson is casting him glances, .

He is just a hair’s breadth away from breaking.

But somehow Thomas sits through the 20 minutes that seem like 2 hours without falling to pieces.

The moment Carson rises from the table, he jumps up to curl up somewhere and weep.

Just for a minute. A brief little minute all by himself.

“Mr. Barrow”, the butler calls him back.

_Please, oh please not now._

“Yes, Mr. Carson.” Thomas manages no more than a hoarse whisper.

He avoids the butler’s stern eyes, like a child expecting to get hit across the face for stealing candy.

“I’ll manage, Mr. Carson. I promise,” Thomas croaks, before even asked.

_Let’s just pretend there has never been a notice._

“I’m sure you can, Mr. Barrow. It’s more a question of ‘how’, am I right?”

 

The moment the door of Carson’s office closes behind Thomas, the tears are breaking their way.

He slumps against the wall and tries to hide behind his hands.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carson, I’ll be fine in a second.”

“Sit down”, the butler beckons.

Thomas complies, before yet again burying his face in his hands.

“He has nowhere to go".

“James didn’t tell you?”

Thomas looks up at Carson, or rather a blurred shape behind a curtain of tears.

“Tell me … _what_?”

“He appeared quite confident to secure a position at the Anstruther’s. At least a temporary one. He made it sound as if they had been imploring him to come back all along. They are in London for the season.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were out of the room before I could. I expected he would communicate his plans to you.”

Carson’s hand comes to rest on Thomas's shoulder, heavy and caring.

"He will be all right. And so will you. In a little while."

“Don’t be kind to me, Mr. Carson. I let him down. I do not deserve it one bit.”

“I think, you do, Mr. Barrow. Every troubled soul deserves a bit of kindness now and then.”

For a second or so Thomas is too confused even to cry.

Carson doesn’t smile, but there is a hint of softness in his voice.

“Especially those, who don’t think, they do.”


End file.
